Stick the Landing
by Progman
Summary: It's an impossible dilemma. The Champion of Kirkwall, or one of the Grey Wardens who brought an end to the Fifth Blight. One must live, and one must die. At least, that's what all conventional logic would suggest. Fortunately, the fade isn't too keen on logic. Or unwelcome guests. As far as it's concerned, they can both be thrown out the window.


The Warden-Commander of Ferelden was in the west. Very, very far west. She was so far west, in fact, that she couldn't quite recall the name of the land she was currently sitting in. Her campground looked like any other. A fire. A tent. Her pack.

An exceedingly high number of bear traps placed strategically around her perimeter.

If she weren't traveling alone, she wouldn't have to take precautions. Sadly, she was. West. Further west. Always heading _west. _

She poked her campfire with a stick. Yes. It was indeed still burning. She should have brought more books. Not for burning, for _reading._ She looked up, and the stars were different. Every few weeks they seemed to change to something new. Constellations she'd never dreamed of seeing.

She'd tried naming them on several occasions. She wasn't very good at it. Except for the series of stars she'd named Duncan. She liked that one. It looked fitting. Everything else was just terrible, though.

Names were never her strong suit, anyway. Well, giving them out that is. She was _very _good at gaining them, for one reason or another.

The Hero of Ferelden. The Warden-Commander. Lady Cousland. The Archdemon Slayer. The Savior of Kinloch Hold. The Arl of Amaranthine. She had gone by many names, most given to her, or forced upon her.

At one time, long ago, it had saddened her that few actually knew her given name. Ferelden saw her as a mythical hero rather than a person. Leliana had praised her for this, and that as a Grey Warden it was and should be her highest aspiration to be revered by her actions, rather than her identity.

What she was, rather than who she was.

It had taken her a long time to accept that hard truth; that it was her title that held the most weight, rather than the actions that lead to the titles themselves. Of course, she'd had help coming to terms with that.

Alistair. She couldn't help but smile. That unbearably charming, impossibly sweet, and otherwise wonderful literal bastard of a man had never, not one single time, called her any of those names. Even when it was proper, as she _was _his commanding officer, he outright refused to address her as a symbol alone.

She'd asked him why, and he answered. By the maker, did he ever answer.

"Those names, those titles? They sound really nice, and I'll admit I wouldn't mind...well, being _recognized _for my contributions, but that's all they are. Fancy words. If all of Ferelden wants to make everything simpler by saying 'hey, remember that lady who stopped the Blight? The one who killed the Archdemon but somehow isn't dead? She's certainly amazing, that Hero of Ferelden', then let them. Let history see you that way, because, I mean really, does it honestly matter when all is said and done? You don't have any more say in it than I do, but more importantly, _I _don't see you that way. You're amazing, and beautiful, and far more than I could ever deserve, but when I wake up in the morning with you at my side, no matter the distance between us, the only thing I see is the woman I love. _Elissia Cousland. _Anything else is pretty inconsequential after that."

She'd laughed, kissed him, punched him in the arm, and then threw him into their tent after that. That was the last time they'd made camp together. It was also the last time she'd seen him. The letter helped. She's not sure how she'd even gotten it, but ravens knew these lands better than man ever could. She could only hope that the one she'd responded with had found him safely.

One of them needed to stay, and the other needed to go. Otherwise, they'd both succumb to the taint. To her, that wasn't an option. It was _never _an option.

In Peace, Vigilance. In War, Victory. In Death…

Ellisia felt she'd sacrificed more than enough in life to have to do so in a premature death. Going west, far beyond the borders of Orlais, wasn't a difficult journey for her. At least, not physically. She could handle any environment, any storm, and any madness that stood in the way of her goal. She was only ten years after her Joining, after all. She had another ten, on average, left in her.

Or another seventy, if she had anything to say about it. Which she did, so she was saying she'd get those extra years. Or die trying. Literally.

Ellissia narrowed her eyes at the sky. She didn't remember there being a green star there a moment ago. In fact, she'd thought stars of that particular color didn't exist. Nor should they be growing. Quickly. A comet? She was probably just seeing things-

And then something quite impossible happened. Alistair, _her _Alistair, came tumbling out of a green hole in the air, flying straight into her tent, destroying it in the process, and rolled onto the ground to a rather painful looking dragging halt.

Elissia shot to her feet and sprinted over to him. She found him face down in a heap with cuts and gashes all over his armor. He was also covered in blood that didn't smell like blood at all. She kneeled down beside his head, her heart pounding in her chest. Surely he wasn't dead. Impossible.

"...Alistair, if you don't get up, I'm going to start kicking you."

Alistair groaned and turned his head to the side, looking up at her with an angered expression. "Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me. _Another _desire demon? Will you idiots just give up already? Please? No? You won't, I know you won't, not sure why I even asked at all." He scoffed. "'Least this time you're not being lazy about the circumstances, I'll give you that."

Elissia was dumbstruck for half a second before realizing that he probably thought he was dreaming. She stared at him for a few moments before sighing and dropping her gaze. Stranger things had happened to them. She could deal with this, too. "I suppose saying 'I love you', and reciting all the things that only I could know about us isn't going to convince you that I'm _not _a demon, right?"

"That is entirely correct, and thank you for being cordial about it all. It's a welcome change of pace." He winced and tried pushing himself up to sit. She helped, gingerly. Touching him made him real. She wasn't hallucinating. Probably. "Thanks. See? Good manners! It's not so difficult, now is it? The rest of your kind? Just jump right in. No ceremony, no 'how was your experience last time, Alistair?' or 'how can I tailor this vision better for you'? Terrible relations, really. Again, lazy."

Elissia snickered and bit her lower lip. "Haven't lost your charm, I see. Tell me, Alistair, where do you think you are right now?"

Alistair looked around for a moment. "Well, clearly you want me to think I'm back in the 'good old days' of a decade past. You know, fighting the blight. Bickering with Morrigan. Hoping Shale doesn't fall on me in the middle of the night." He frowned. "It's sort of weird that no one else is here, though. Different, and not better. There's your feedback, so change it."

Elissia smiled as a solution dawned on her. Well, a possible one. "Oh, that shouldn't be too difficult." She tilts her head slyly. "That is, if you can name every constellation in the sky."

"Pbbth, that's all? Might as well ask me to recite the damned alphabet." He looked up at the sky and screwed up his face. "...or not. That's odd. I thought desire demons could only conjure things from my memories. I mean, if the Circle Tower taught me anything…"

"Alistair." She carefully cupped his head. "You're not dreaming."

He shrugs off her hands and scowls at her. "I know! I'm _physically in the fade_! How could you have forgotten that? Don't you live here?"

Elissia wrinkled her nose. Was she dreaming? No, she'd...no, definitely not. "That's...impossible. The only ones who ever physically entered the fade-"

Alistair rolled his eyes massively. "Tevinter Magisters, then the Maker turned his back on us and unleashed the Blight. Yes, I know the story! I also know that the part about the Magisters is completely true! Also the Blight, not sure about the Maker part. City might've always been-" He blinks and sits up straight. "Black. Where's the Black City?" He looked around frantically. The sky, the destroyed tent, the forest. Everywhere. "_How are you doing this? _ That was the one constant! That's why it was different, because I had my body, so my perception couldn't be completely skewed."

Elissia groaned and slapped him clean across the face. "You're not in the damned fade! You fell out of a fucking _green hole in the sky_! You destroyed my camp and it looks like you nearly got yourself killed! Again! Stop doing that!"

Alistair stared at her, dumbstruck. "...Elissia?"

"_What?"_

"Do that again."

"Do what?"

"Slap me."

"Fine." Elissia shrugged and slapped him again. "I'm not sure how this is supposed to-oomph!" He cut her off by tackling her with an incredibly passionate kiss. It only took her a moment to recompose herself so she could return the favor. "Well, you either gave in to the demons, or you're sure you're no longer in the fade. Either way, welcome back."

"Gave into the demons? Never. I'd die first, which I couldn't. Not with you waiting for me." Alistair smiled from ear to ear as a few tears stream down his cheeks. "Pain feels different in the fade. Like it's everywhere, and nowhere at once. I could only feel you on my cheek." He laughs and clutches his stomach, sitting up. "How mad is that? You _slapped _it into me. Oh, Hawke is going to _love _this when she hears it."

Elissia scoffed and smiled. It never ceased to amaze her how the both of them could just _adapt _the insanity around them. They'd grown into that skill, of course, but still. Not many could claim the same. "There's a good story as to how you got here, isn't there? If not, I'm going to be very disappointed."

He grinned at her. "Oh, it's a _fantastic _story. So fantastic, in fact, that it can wait until morning. We have quite a bit of catching up to do."

"Maker, _yes we absolutely do. _As soon as you've bathed. You're still covered in...demon blood. Or fade drool. Whatever it is, it's revolting."

"Really? This again? I fall out of the sky and suddenly we're back to me scrubbing the darkspawn blood away?"

Elissia smacked her forehead. "_Alistair! You smell worse than high dragon shit! Bathe!"_

"Ugh, _fine!" _He got to his feet and walked over to a bucket of water."But then we're having sex."

She collapsed on her back, chuckling. "Yes. We are."

"Until we collapse."

"I gathered as much."

"And it's going to be fantastic."

"It's as if you're expecting me to _disagree_."

"Well-"

"I love you, Alistair, but please just shut up and bathe."

"I love you, too."

**A/N: I had this idea almost instantly after watching Hawke totally not die from that giant spider demon thing. A friend of mine had an almost identical Warden-Commander, and of course we both romanced Alistair. And **_**of course **_**the game gives us the single most impossible choice in Bioware history. Hawke or Alistair. EVIL. Look, I'm not normally one for fix-it fics, but the fade is crazy, okay? And the breach is crazy. Magic is crazy. **

**Stay tuned for the second chapter, where Hawke turns her daring escape into badassery in front of her little sister! **

**Feedback is always appreciated :)**


End file.
